of blood-poisoning as I had, and when you
have seen young people walking with a stick, you think that there is
something to be said for old Ireland."

"Now won't you be taking a sup of milk? You'll be wanting a drink after
travelling," said Mrs. Scully.

And when he had drunk the milk Mike asked him if he would like to go
inside or if he would like to go for a walk.

"Maybe it is sitting down you would like to be."

And they went into the cabin, and started to talk about the wages a man
could get in America, and the long hours of work.

And after Bryden had told Mike everything about America that he thought
would interest him, he asked Mike about Ireland. But Mike did not seem
to be able to tell him much that was of interest. They were all very
poor--poorer, perhaps, than when he left them.

"I don't think anyone except myself has a five pound note to his name."

Bryden hoped he felt sufficiently sorry for Mike. But after all Mike's
life and prospects mattered little to him. He had come back in search
of health; and he felt better already; the milk had done him good, and
the bacon and cabbage in the pot sent forth a savoury odour. The
Scullys were very kind, they pressed him to make a good meal; a few
weeks of country air and food, they said, would give him back the
health he had lost in the Bowery; and when Bryden said he was longing
for a smoke, Mike said there was no better sign than that. During his
long illness he had never wanted to smoke, and he was a confirmed
smoker.

It was comfortable to sit by the mild peat fire watching the smoke of
their pipes drifting up the chimney, and all Bryden wanted was to be
let alone; he did not want to hear of anyone's misfortunes, but about
nine o'clock a number of villagers came in, and their appearance was
depressing. Bryden remembered one or two of them--he used to know them
very well when he was a boy; their talk was as depressing as their
appearance, and he could feel no interest whatever in them. He was not
moved when he heard that Higgins the stone-mason was dead; he was not
affected when he heard that Mary Kelly, who used to go to do the
laundry at the Big House, had married; he was only interested when he
heard she had gone to America. No, he had not met her there, America is
a big place. Then one of the peasants asked him if he remembered Patsy
Carabine, who used to do the gardening at the Big House. Yes, he
remembered Patsy well. Patsy was in the poor-house.